Damon threw his upper body violently forward, sitting up straight in the center of the large wooden bed. His hands were clenched so tightly into the soft white sheets that his knuckles turned white.
His chest was heaving up and down rapidly, panting greedily for air as if he had just been running for miles in a hot desert. Drops of cold sweat were rolling down his forehead, dripping off his sharp jawline, and sliding down his neck. His heart was hammering frantically against his ribs, beating a rapid, terrified rhythm.
Damon sat frozen in the quiet room.
The bright, warm morning sunlight was pouring happily through the large glass windows, casting a golden light across the floorboards. The birds were chirping softly outside in the gardens. The air inside the room was cool, clean, and quiet.
Damon slowly looked around.
The suffocating air was gone. The handsome noble was gone.
